


Worn-Out Tape

by orphan_account



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Depression, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 16:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Deep Sea Rising off-canon / vent fic





	Worn-Out Tape

Amber stood over Octo Valley, on the top of Nantai. Night had fallen, and the cold grips of the stars in the sky felt almost refreshing when paired against the lines of hot ink that she had let run over her arms. The white inky rider jacket that she had held so close to her appeared pristine on the outside, but the evidence was apparent in the sleeves. In a way, it reminded her of herself; seemingly so happy and confident in herself and in every word that spilled out of her mouth, the base supporting those words in shambles.

She thought about the time, as if it was something important to her. But time was merely a word, as her days were no longer marked by their activities but by the loops of the exhausted cassette, the cassette that rotated and reversed in its worn-out deck, ninety minutes passed, reverse. On end, forever. Ninety minutes was the only time that mattered to her anymore, as if it was the mark of something greater. She had her ideas, her strokes of passion, only to concede to her cloudy head, which slumped back into its ninety-minute cycle once again.

She took off her jacket, surrendering herself to the night, the lines in her arms all but unfortunately apparent, the amber-colored ink that had once exited them no longer in sight. The Octoling couldn't help but look at the lines, as if they were tallies, trying to count them, trying to recount her memories, trying to remember what it was like before the lines showed up, but she barely remembered to eat most days, as if it were optional, as if she was avoiding it on purpose. Maybe she was; she didn't know.

She didn't feel like she knew anything anymore. She didn't know who she was, she didn't know if she wanted to be who she was going to be. She didn't even feel certain in the life she had fought for and made for herself, wondering if Amber was all but a farce, an act, and the labels she had put on herself were wrong, telling a story of a character who had an identity crisis on a weekly basis.

She didn't even feel like it was her story anymore. As far as she was aware, she was just spectating someone else's daily life. She didn't make any decisions, or feel anything, she just saw the world through someone else's eyes. Maybe they were her own. She didn't know, and at some point she stopped caring.

Her jacket on the ground, she walked over to the edge of the mountain, onlooking the society that had deteriorated after its leader was taken. She dangled her foot off the edge, imagining the results of her stepping towards it. It wasn't an appealing option, but if the pills didn't work, this was guaranteed to, right?

She took off the glasses that decorated her face, the sight of the Valley blurring, the familiar patterns of the lights burning into her eyes. She was uncertain about a lot of things - her life path, her place in the world. She was uncertain if Amber was even Amber, if she was the girl she thought she was...if she was a girl, period. Although her life was unclear, the smeared lights in front of her made one thing very, very clear.

Now wasn't the time, was it?

These light patterns felt warm. It wasn't the kind of warm that had plagued her skin, but the kind of warm that reminded her that maybe there was hope. That the things she was wrestling with might surrender, the feelings she had might finally settle, that maybe things would return to a constant once again. She took her foot away from the edge, as she looked at the flag waving high on the mountain. Pink, white, and blue...it was still standing. She put her glasses back on, and looked at the Valley one final time.

The cuts would heal. The pain that rested inside her heart, her mind, and her body would get better. Things would get better, they always do. She super-jumped home, the lonely apartment greeting her. The same old bed, the same old kitchen, the same old abandoned passion projects. The same old worn-out tape.

And then things became certain.

The static hiss and crackles of the deck stopped, as the ninety-minute cycle that locked her away faded out harshly. Within minutes, it started up once again, new sounds filling her head, as Amber smashed something with her hand. 

The same old worn-out tape.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small vent fic I wrote because I hadn't much other way of getting things across. New DSR is coming soon, hold on for that. I'm sorry.


End file.
